Of Wolves and Women
by RagdollPrincess
Summary: Written in collaboration with Wynni and kkolmakov. This is the story of three wolves of the line of Durin and three women who happen to meet in the forest. Fairytale AU. Story moved to co-collaborator's page and link to ongoing story is in the A/Ns for each chapter. *No Infringement Intended*
1. Chapter 1: Wren and Darius

**A/N: SO! I did not expect to get involved in another collaboration because I hardly have time to keep up on what I have going on so far, but how I can resist anything that involves a three-way of some sort? I'm probably the only person who laughed at that. I was just too flattered by Wynni's request to include Reese in her story (as Nerys) and then somehow I found myself writing Reese. This is a collaboration with kkolmakov and Wynni based on kkolmakov's "Fairytales Under the Mountain" story. They've posted the same story on their pages as well in case you've noticed it's there too. It starts with the chapters that kkolmakov wrote for her Red Riding Hood piece before you start to see original work by all three of us. The links to my collaborators' pages are on my profile page.**

**New note**: This story is still being continued but can be found at kkolmakov's profile so that we comply with 's regulations about multiple postings of content. I'll still be updating Nerys' part. The liink to the story is in Chapter 7 and on my profile page.

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><p><em>Written by <em>_kkolmakov_

WREN/DARIUS

The girl steps out of deep shadows between the trees, into the circle of dim liquid light around the campfire, and the man sitting on a fallen tree lifts his eyes. She is small, wrapped in a bright red cloak, hood covering the upper half of her face.

"Do you mind if I join you, kind sir?" She has a confident voice, with a sarcastic lilt, and he invites her with a wide gesture of his hand. She sits down and throws the hood off her face. It is angular, freckled, high cheekboned. Her lively green eyes study his face, and she smiles. There is a bow and a quiver on her back, and a long narrow sword in a scabbard on her belt. "They say it is a dangerous forest, I think it would be wise to share the campfire."

Her eyes run over his armour, a heavy two handed sword on the ground near his foot, dark blue cloak wrapped around his shoulders. He smirks darkly.

"What makes you think that whatever is lurking in these forests is more dangerous than a complete stranger you ran into at night?" He turns the metal skewer with a deer leg suspended over his fire and offers her a wine skin. She accepts and takes a big swig. She doesn't answer his question, her eyes glued to the fire. He is quiet as well, turning the meat over the fire.

Suddenly a loud howl carried by the wind makes them both jolt and put their hands on the handles of the swords.

"A wolf?" He asks, and she shakes her head.

"That is no wolf," her voice is hollow, and she fixes the quiver on her back. "They say there are monsters living in these forests. They have different names but most say they are half-wolves, half-people, changing into blood-thirsty beasts with the phases of the moon. Some say that with age they learn to shapeshift at will. They also say there were a lot of them, a whole clan, but now there are but a few. But again, that is just villagers telling fairy tales perhaps," she relaxes and stretches her legs to the fire. He notices that she has tiny feet in very comfortable, worn down boots. These boots have seen a lot of road. Just as the bow and the sword in the scabbard have seen a lot of fight.

"And what are you doing in the forests supposedly inhabited by monsters, my lady?" He pokes the meat with a knife to check it for blood.

"I am visiting my grandmother." She looks at him askew and takes another swig from his wine skin.

"In the village?"

"Not exactly," she pulls the cloak tighter around her shoulders. There is a light chainmail on her, hugging her slender body. "And you? What are you doing in the forests?"

"Visiting relatives in the village," they both know he is lying, and she nods.

"I wouldn't expect any other answer from you," she smiles coldly and turns to him. Her eyes are suddenly sharp, and she chuckles. "You do realize you shouldn't wear the buckle with your family crest if you want to preserve anonymity? There are none of your kin in the village." He smirks.

"I like this belt. You are not so discreet yourself, with your red cloak typical for your craft and the hunter's sword." She gently strokes the handle.

"It was my father's."

"So that grandmother of yours? Is she a huntress too?"

"Are you suddenly worried you might have met her in your travels, my lord?" Her tone is sarcastic. "Worry not, she is not a huntress. She lives beyond the forest, in a small house."

"The blind witch?!" His eyebrows jump up. "So which one are you, a hunter or a healer?" His eyes run over her body.

"I don't like to be put in a box, my lord. One doesn't have to be limited and determined by one's vocation."

"Yes, but these two are rather the opposites. Healers tend to the wounded no matter the cause, and… no matter the race, while hunters kill anyone and anything they are properly paid for." She narrows her eyes at him.

"Hunters kill those who are dangerous. We do have a code, you know." He makes a derisive noise.

"Tell it to the innocent children of those you called monsters just a few minutes ago." She clenches her jaws, and he sees her hand slide on the handle of the sword.

"Tell that to the village children torn apart in their sleep." Their eyes are locked, and he smirks.

"How did you know? Of what I am?" His hands are relaxed on his knees, his sword beyond his reach, but she knows he wouldn't be using his sword if he decides to attack her. "No one knew about my family, and the crest wouldn't have told you anything."

"The deer." She points at the meat above the fire with her eyes. He questioningly cocks a brow. "You don't have a bow. I can hardly imagine you catching it on foot and killing it with your sword. The teeth marks on the skin though are quite obvious." She throws a look at the deer skin lying near his feet, and that's when he jumps at her. She is ready for him though, her small swift body shifts, and he lands on an empty spot. He quickly turns, but she is already pressing her knife to his throat.

"Aren't you too slow for a lycanthrope?" She is looking into his blue eyes, and he suddenly smiles widely.

"Out of practice. I haven't shifted in ten years. Only managed to catch the deer from the third attempt, and it drained me." She presses the blade to his Adam's apple, and he swallows with difficulty. "I guess I am getting old."

"What are you doing in the forest, wolf? Your people haven't been seen here for more than twelve years." He doesn't answer, his eyes roaming her face.

"I remember your father, Wren from Leary. He was an honourable man." The blade in her hands doesn't jerk, but she clasps it harder, her knuckles now white.

"He died hunting your family, and you call him honourable?"

"He never touched an innocent. Will you?" He looks directly into her eyes. Her hands aren't shaking.

"Who is in the forests, wolf?"

"My nephews. They are young, that is one of their firsts shifts, they know nothing of the beast inside. I am looking after them." He can see she is pondering whether to believe him. "Put your knife down, huntress. You have no work here."

"You know that I have a way to check it, right?" He nods solemnly. She moves the blade slightly away from his throat, and they simultaneously realize the position they are in. She is straddling him, their faces close, her orange curls scattered on his shoulders. He is splayed on the ground under her, one of his hands on her thigh, on the thin linen of her trousers.

"Do your trick, huntress," his voice is low and velvet, and for the first time she notices what he looks like. Before she was looking trying to guess the clan and the age, now she notices the noble profile, prominent nose, and the sensual line of lips. He has beautiful eyes, elongated and bright, like most of his kind, but blue and not light brown other wolf people have. There is silver in his hair on the temples and above his brow, the strands long and silky, splayed on the ground, and she realizes her other hand is pressed to his chest. She can feel his heart beating frantically even through the tunic and the brigandine. Heat is coming off in waves from him, his kind is always hotter than men from the village.

She sits up straighter on him, trying not to think of how her pelvis presses into his, and he lifts one of his hands to her. She picks it up and quickly slices his palm with the hunter's knife. The blood on his palm is red, not black. He is innocent. She nods and climbs off him. He is still lying on the ground, when she comes up to her sack and pulls out a jar of balm and bandages. He chuckles.

"A healer as well after all?" She turns to him and gives him a dark look.

She comes back to him but he doesn't get up. She lifts a brow questioningly, and he gives her a pointedly innocent look. With a sigh she straddles him again and starts attending to the cut. It isn't deep, she held back. He is studying her face.

"And I thought all huntresses are supposedly very enticing, their beauty yet another defense against wolves. Since we are supposedly more libidinous than ordinary men." She is wrapping a bandage around his large hand and ties its ends, her face unreadable.

"It is all old wives' tales, wolf. We are women like all other, and as you can see some of us are even less alluring than the ugly daughter of the smith all village laughs at." She lowers her face to the knot on the bandage and bites one of the ends. She pulls at it, tying it tighter, when he sharply sits up and suddenly his eyes are right in front of hers.

"What they tell about the wolves isn't an old wives' tale though," his voice is lower, raspy, and she slowly releases the end of the bandage from between her teeth. He is staring at her red lips. There is a moment of silence between them, and then she chuckles.

"Indeed?" She releases his hand, and he slowly put it on her waist. She has plenty of time to stop him, but she doesn't. "Should you not be watching your nephews, wolf?" He slightly tilts his head and gives her a lopsided smirk.

"They will be fine. They are slightly reckless, but good lads." She nods satisfied with his answer and catches his mouth. His hands slide under her red cloak, arms wrap around her small body, and she closes her eyes. It has been a while since she's been held by a man, and she thinks it seems perhaps never have felt this good. He closes his eyes and sighs into the kiss. It has been a while since he has held a woman in his arms, and he is certain it never felt that good.


	2. Chapter 2: Wren and Darius

**A/N: Things heat up here a bit. I once teased kkolmakov that she couldn't write a word without it being M rated. And why would anyone want to, really? But she proved me wrong, as she often does :D However, this chapter gets things back on track to a proper M rating.**

****New note**: **This story is still being continued but can be found at kkolmakov's profile so that we comply with 's regulations about multiple postings of content. I'll still be updating Nerys' part. The liink to the story is in Chapter 7 and on my profile page.

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><p><em>Written by <em>_kkolmakov_

WREN/DARIUS

His lips were warm, his breath fresh, slightly smelling of the wine they both drank, and she trailed the tip of her tongue on the downside of his upper lip. She heard her belt click, and his hot palms slid under her chainmail and her tunic, his long fingers almost locking around her waist. She caught his bottom lip between her teeth and heard him groan quietly.

"More libidinous than normal men, you said?" She chuckled into the kiss, and her tongue brushed over his. He opened his eyes and smiled. He pushed his hands into her hair now and pulled her head back, looking attentively into her face. The amber eyes grew clouded, her red lips slightly open, and he cocked a brow sardonically.

"Will I wake up with a hunter's knife between my shoulder blades after this, huntress?"

She leaned closer and whispers into his lips, "Depends on your performance, wolf." He chuckled and shook his head.

"I'm old, Wren of Leary, do not expect anything majestic." They laughed together, and suddenly she picked up a strand of his hair and twirled it around her finger.

"How old?" He understood the meaning and brushed his lips on her jaw.

"I wasn't here during the Big Hunt twelve years ago, but I lost my brother and grandfather." She stroked his cheek with the tips of her fingers. He saw sympathy in her eyes, and with gratitude he pressed his lips to her cheekbone. She tilted her head, and he placed a kiss on her jaw, and then another one lower, with a strange familiarity, on the pulse beating on her neck. There his mouth stayed, and he listened to her heart pumping the blood through her veins. Some other sound seemed to permeate his hearing, and he slid his mouth lower, his finger hooked at the collar of her soft tunic. He pulled and felt her smooth cool skin on his lips. He swirled his tongue on it, enjoying the silkiness and the faint smell of lilacs, when she softly exhaled, her hands returning the favour. The pulps of her delicate fingers drew patterns on the skin of his nape. He picked up the chainmail and pulled it off her. He shortly thought she was too trustful towards his kind, or any man for that matter, and then he forgot the thought, as her palm snaked under his brigandine and tunic and lay on his stomach. He was ignoring the strange resonating hum in his head, savouring the taste of her now uncovered collarbones.

"Take off your armour, wolf," her voice was raspy, and he gladly complied. He considered taking off the legwear as well, the cuisses would be uncomfortable for her, and then he felt her fingers working deftly at the clasps. Since he released her neck, she took charge and gently nipped at his ear. He growled. Her teeth were now on his neck, and she bit carefully, but it was sensitive. He jerked his head and looked at her attentively. And then the noise he had been brushing off this whole time finally reached his hazy mind. It was the sound of her blood rushing. He tensed. The wolf would hear it when hunting, but he was not shifted and she was no deer. To chase it away he cupped the back of her head and pulled her into a kiss. She readily arched into him, opened her mouth for him and grabbed handfuls of his hair. He twisted his body and toppled her on the ground, weighing on her. Her skin tasted of woods, and smoke, and fallen leaves.

"What is your name, wolf?" He lifted his face. Her eyes were smiling.

"Darius," he leaned in and picked up the string of her tunic's lacing with his teeth. He pulled, and she giggled. He didn't know huntresses giggled.

"Ten years, huh?" Her tone was mischievous, "You're still good with your teeth, as I can see." He chuckled and slid down. He pushed her shirt up and pressed an open-mouthed kiss on her stomach. She was taut and warm even to his wolf senses, and he heard her gasp softly. And then a painful shudder ran through his body, and he jerked away from her. His fingers curled sharply on the ground, nails dug into the fallen leaves and dirt, and he dropped his head. He momentarily wondered if that was some sort of human illness befalling him. He knew wolves were immune, but that was odd. He surely couldn't have been shifting, he had learnt to control the beast more than two decades ago.

But all the signs were there, the excruciating pain in every muscle, blurred vision, ringing in his ears. He groaned and pushed away from her further. He rolled away, on his stomach again, and tried to get up. Another shudder quaked his body, and he snarled. He tried to see his hands, he was supporting himself on one elbow and a straight arm, but all he saw were the veins bulging on them, no changes. It felt like changing though, now that he finally heard the inner din. It was the same drunkenness, the sudden desire to let go, to relinquish inhibitions. His jaws clenched in the sweet anticipation, and then he cursed silently. He couldn't let it happen. He remembered of the woman a step away from him. He shook his head, his spine twisting and aching, and looked at her. He expected either terror in her eyes or her father's sword clenched in her hand. He saw neither. She was still on the ground, her shirt bunched up, leaning back on her elbows, and his sharpening, mid-shifting vision grasped the pale skin of the stomach, the hip bones, he apparently had loosened the belt and pulled her trousers down, her peaks puckered under the shirt, and then his nose caught the smell of her arousal. He growled loudly, and then suddenly she laughed.

"You have mentioned you are old, you never said you were getting senile, wolf." Had he not been fighting a wolf and losing, he wouldn't have heard the trembling of the voice she was hiding underneath the sarcasm. "Stop fighting it."

"No," he sneered through his teeth. He felt disoriented. He couldn't gather where it came from. More so, he couldn't understand why she wasn't running. "I'll hurt you… It's strange… I'm not controlling it…"

"Of course you aren't," her voice was suddenly soft, she shifted, he couldn't see, and her small strong palm cupped his face. He wondered if the teeth were already longer, and recoiled from the thought of sinking them into her hand. "Darius, look at me," he lifted his burning eyes at her and met her soft warm look. "Stop fighting it, Darius. You are not shifting, you are mating." His whole body jolted, and he fell his face down into damp leaves.

Her arms pushed under his shoulders, and she rolled him on his back. His back arched, another painful wave ran through him, and he felt her fingers run on his face. She was making comforting noises, and he let go. Images flashed before his eyes, some sensual and graphic, some vague and warm, explosions of sparks, sensations, he gasped and took a giant gulp of air. Smells, tastes, tingling in the tips of his fingers, and then all over his skin, and then heat, he felt his body and mind change and transform, but for once it had nothing to do with the animal inside. He screamed, not from pain, but from the piercing sensation of being finally alive. His heart beating painfully in his throat, he thrashed on the ground, his short nails scraping at it, he felt her gently but firmly holding him, and then his body slacked, and his eyes closed.

The world slowly returned, and he took a cautious breath in. The smells seemed more intense, and he realized he was trying to catch her fragrance in the air. He didn't need to look far, she was lying on him, her backside on the ground, but her upper torso on him. She had a hand under her cheek, over his heart, and her other hand was stroking his shoulder. He opened his eyes and looked at the starry sky. It seemed too colourful, somewhat resembling the feeling of just a bit too much ale, but more intense. He lifted his hand and put it on her back, between her shoulder blades.

"I'm sorry," her voice was tender, "That looked very painful." Her hand slipped from his shoulder, and she brushed it on his throat. "Are you alright?" The question was so absurd that he guffawed. She lifted her head, and their eyes finally met. He thought that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life. And then immediately hunger rose. He ground his teeth, to eject the clear image of ripping off her shirt from his mind, but it only led to him imagining doing it with his teeth. And then he envisioned sinking the said teeth into his backside. Even before it all started he couldn't help but notice the perky round buttocks.

"So you are a butt man?" Her tone was impish, and he froze. She tapped her index finger on the tip of his nose. "The mind link, remember? For the first few hours, and all through life during mating, if it's done right, of course."

Two thoughts rushed through his mind. Even ignoring the irony of being mated to a huntress, he couldn't help but wonder in what universe that was a good match, and why she seemed content about it.

She suddenly straddled him, and leaning low she purred in his ear, "No one chooses their Half, and you are not the worst of them there," her lips brushed his ear, and he shivered. He had very little control left and wanted to tell her that, but then remembered that she knew. "I don't need your control, darling. I'm all yours." Her voice dropped, and he gnarled and threw her off him. She landed on the ground with an oomph, only to laugh throatily from the view of his tearing his armour in jerky uncoordinated movements.

"Get undressed..." His voice hardly submitted to him, but he saw her pull at the strings on her trousers. He closed his eyes, any more skin visible and he'd jump at her, probably biting and scratching her. His tunic, boots, trousers flew on the ground, followed by undergarments, and then, before he opened his eyes her absolutely naked body suddenly pressed into him. He gasped and opened his eyes. She was stretched on him, wrapped around him, cool, supple, lithe, refreshing and intoxicating, like water in a spring, like the wind in the branches during his first shift, like the first gulp of air on a frosty morning. Her copper curls ran between his fingers, amber eyes loving and brilliant in front of him, and he took a deep breath in, inhaling her, hearing her blood and welcoming her smell. The world halted around, and in the perfect harmony of his new life he smiled to her tenderly and kissed her red lips.

The hunger was gone, replaced by longing, and she whispered, "Yes, Darius, yes..." He rolled her underneath him, her legs locking around his hips as if in the thousandth time, and he slid into her. Both of them closed their eyes, immobile and elated, and then he peeked, cheating, and licked across her lips. She giggled and rubbed her calf to his backside. "Don't get me wrong, that feels wonderful, but do you mind moving already, love?" He shortly thought that she indeed wasn't a good match for him. She was the perfect one. He experimentally rolled his hips into her, making her gasp, and immediately her arms tightened on his neck. He rose on his elbows, his palms under her shoulder blades, something in the delicate bone structure and pale skin mesmerizing him, or perhaps he was just protecting her back from the pine cones and needles on the ground, and she moaned. That was a new sound, open and vulnerable, her snark gone, and he saw her pupils dilate and her lips open slightly. "Darius..."

"Mine..." He murmured back and pushed into her deeper. Her teeth sank in her bottom lip, and he felt her pelvis answer to his thrust. He moved again, she lifted her hips off the ground, trying to take him in deeper, and he closed his eyes in the perfect pleasure. Small and tight, she felt welcoming, accepting, she felt like home, and he moaned loudly. He was rolling into her, harder and deeper with each time, and soon he realized their intertwined bodies were rising off the ground with each of his thrusts, they were shifting, and she punctuated each of his moves with a loud cry. Her face was distant, absorbed in the passion, and he rasped, "Wren, look at me..." He needed her eyes, her heart, her soul at that very moment, and her lashes flew up. She met his eyes and smiled.

"Love..." She breathed out, and he buried his face into her neck, hiding the tears, his hips rocking into her again and again, her soft moans in the forest air, one of her hands at the back of his head, firm and caressing, another one pressed to his skin on his middle, and he shattered. He sobbed, his voice mixing with her triumphant cry, and then he sank even deeper into her. His arms couldn't hold him anymore, and he collapsed onto her. She purred, her slender arms finding their way around his middle, and he exhaled loudly. He tried not to pant, but unsuccessfully, and then he chuckled shakily.

"What?" Her voice was cordial, and he rose on his elbows to look into her eyes. Her cheeks were rosy, eyes shiny, and he gazed at her with pleasure. She was adorable, with a slightly smug expression, curls scattered on the ground, one strand stuck to her sweaty temple, red lips twitching in a small smile.

"I want to take a bath with you. And love you on sheets. Proper sheets, and wine and cheese… We need wine and cheese..." He was blabbering, and he didn't care. He grinned to her widely, and she sniggered.

"Oh, now you want to be a gentleman." He cocked a brow, and she leered at him. "I will indeed need a bath. And perhaps a backrub. I have sensitive skin, and I think we just had a threesome with a pinecone." He snorted and quickly kissed her.

"I have to wait till morning and look after my nephews, but after that..." He was going to paint some other pleasant plans for her, when he remembered what exactly he and his nephews were doing in the forest. He choked on his words and saw her face grow serious. He clenched his teeth. He didn't want it to end, he wasn't done. He wanted to talk nonsense to her, make suggestive remarks, ask her when exactly she realized what was happening to him, and then he was certain he would want another time with her. Perhaps two. He threw a look at her shoulders and small breasts, and realized that perhaps three. And before anything he wanted to have a closer look at her peaks, perky and mouth-watering, he didn't even kiss them once. But then he met her eyes and realized that they were to have a completely different conversation now.

"Tell me," her tone was sober, and he sighed. He rolled off, both of them groaning quietly when his member slid out of her, and they started getting dressed. In tunics and trousers, he didn't let her put anything else, he pulled her on his lap, wrapping their cloaks around them. She tucked her feet between his legs for warmth, her head lay on his shoulder, and he embraced her. They sat for a while in silence, simply appreciating how perfectly they fit together, and then he exhaled loudly.

"I didn't want to come here… Innocent or not, wolves are not welcome here, but so it happened..."


	3. Chapter 3: Wren and Darius

**A/N: And now we get some back story.**

****New note**: This story is still being continued but can be found at kkolmakov's profile so that we comply with 's regulations about multiple postings of content. I'll still be updating Nerys' part. The liink to the story is in Chapter 7 and on my profile page. **

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><p><em>Written by <em>_kkolmakov_

WREN/DARIUS

"I didn't want to come here… Innocent or not, wolves are not welcome here, but so it happened that we were travelling through the woods, when both my nephews started feeling sick," he looked at her sideways, making sure she understood. The first shift for wolfkin was painful, the day before it they felt weak, nauseated, emotions running rampant, and then the night would come, and the beast burst out of them. It would take years for them to learn to control it. She nodded, her fingers drawing swirls on his chest. It was distracting, and he covered her hand with his. "One of them is older, but they shifted together. We really shouldn't have washed them in the same bath all through these years," she chuckled, and he smiled. "Last night was their Initial Shift, I've never seen anyone throw up so much in the morning." They both chuckled this time.

"Were you all fresh and perky on your first morning?" Her tone was sarcastic, but there was no bite in it.

"I didn't have the first morning. I woke up at noon, hungry as..." He trailed away impishly, and she swatted his chest, and he quickly kissed her ear. "I decided we could stay here. Wolfkin hadn't been seen here for twelve years, villagers would have forgotten. We stayed away from the swamps obviously, your grandmother could probably end us with some spell while finishing her evening cuppa." She nodded absent-mindedly. Grandma Leary, the Blind Witch, lost her hunter son and her daughter-in-law in the Big Hunt. She wouldn't kill an innocent, but uncontrollable diarrhea and complete hair loss spells were among her favourites. "And then a huntress stepped out of the woods..." He pressed his smiling lips to her temple and closed his eyes, inhaling her smell.

"Why were surprised when you mated? Isn't it something they tell you about since you lot are pups?" He considered smacking her round bum for insolence, but restrained himself. They wouldn't talk if he did.

"I'm slightly past my prime, Wren, if you haven't noticed. " She snirtled. "And honestly, a huntress... And a skinny ginger for that matter…" She pushed away from him and gave him a glare. He pressed his lips to contain a smile.

"Not funny, wolf! You try being the ugliest of three girls in the family!" Sincere doubt crawled in her voice, and he gave her an attentive look. He opened his mouth, but she clasped her small hand over his mouth. "No compliments, please. Your opinion doesn't count. I'm your Half, you can never be objective… For you I am a goddess." His brows jumped up. He shook his head to release his mouth from her cool dry palm.

"And that's a bad thing how?" She snorted, and then her face grew serious again.

"No mawkishness. Tell me where you were travelling." He sighed heavily. He still wasn't sure he should be telling her anything. Intellectually he knew he wouldn't be able to keep it from her, they were mates now, but he stubbornly fought the urge to include her. He kept silent and then noticed her giving him a doubtful look from under her brow. He internally cursed, she was a huntress and knew everything about his kind. His inner struggle was as clear as day to her at the moment, and he could bet his best armour she was laughing at him inside.

"No need to look so smug, huntress." She purposefully wiggled her bum on his lap, settling more comfortably. If she was trying to remind him of what had just transpired between them, she succeeded. His satiation had ebbed, and he shifted on the fallen tree they were sitting on. She meanwhile was feigning a polite patient expression as if inviting him to take his time in his futile efforts to fight his nature. He clenched his jaws.

"Your attempts to remain all tough and alpha are adorable," she sing-songed, and that's when he decided a smack was due. The sound was clear and tasty, and her eyes grew twice the normal size. He smirked, and she narrowed her eyes at him. "Was that a smart move, wolf? I will land you on your back before you can say woof."

"Oh, I am counting on it," he wiggled his brows. He hoped to distract her, but underestimated her stubborness.

"Do you want me to wait till the morning and ask your nephews? If I gather it right, I'm their alpha female now, they won't say no... to anything I ask of them." She drew innocently, and the alpha in him growled. He suppressed the animal's possessiveness. All jesting aside, he indeed wasn't that young, he had years of experience of dealing with the double nature of his kind's emotions. The beast would react first, snarling and raging, the man was slightly more reasonable.

He cocked a brow and gave her a look. She was his mate now, and he hoped he could trust her to be conscious of his kind's peculiarities. Bonded to a human woman or man, wolfkin had to face a lot of vexations. It was hard to find an understanding person. Wolfkin bonded for life, previously he had thought of it as almost slavery. They had no choice, they were weak and defenseless against the ones they loved. They loved with their whole heart, humans could always leave. Darius had seen too many of his kind suffering. He often had felt fortunate having not met his Half for most part of his life. Although, at the moment he would say he had been a massive idiot. She smiled to him softly, leaned in and kissed his neck.

"Tell me everything, please," her tone was soft, and he wrapped his arms around her tighter, "I want to help." Her palm lay over his heart, and she tucked her head under his chin. The gesture was earnest and vulnerable, and he pressed his cheek to the crown of her curly head.

"What do you know of children being given up into the servitude to imps?" She jerked her face up, and he saw she was blanched. "It was before the Hunt, my sister was carrying her younger one. Her husband was coming back from a trip with merchants, he was a sword for hire, but the hunters stopped the merchants on the road, and he didn't pass the blood test… He attacked them first. He died in a ditch by the road, and when Deadre found out, she started bleeding, we thought she wouldn't make it. And that's when the imp came." He clenched his jaw, she was sitting quietly in his arms. "He both saved my sister and ensured that Killiare was born safely. And then he bound Killiare to a seven year service when my nephew were to reach the battle age. He did last month, and we are taking him to the imp."

"Does he know where you are travelling?" She knew the answer, it seemed, and he gravely shook his head.

"We are hoping to offer his brother's or my service instead. He is so young..." He trailed away. He could still hear his sister's howling when the three of them were living the village their kin were dwelling in these days. They had to lock her in a cellar, she shifted, and he could hear her clawing and raging under the heavy wooden door. He and Philippe, the older one, kept quiet, and Killiare didn't dare asking. The boy was exceptionally perceptive, he knew something was going on even before his mother lost her composure, but he would never challenge his uncle's judgement.

"Are you bringing gold to try to pay him off?" He nodded and looked at her attentively. "You do know it won't work?" She rubbed her face with her palms, and then suddenly she started laughing. The laughter was so hollow and desperate, that he cupped her face and made her look into his eyes. She choked on the sound, and the insanity left her eyes. "Do you know what I am doing in the woods?" She suddenly buried her face in his neck, in a trusting, unguarded gesture, her arms wrapping around his shoulders. He realized she was shaking. "I am going to my Grandmother to discuss what to do with my cousin Carys, who is to be shipped from home to serve the equal term as your nephew. She is a healer in training. Her sister, Nerys, my apprentice, is to bring her to my Grandmother to finish her training, and then we are to send her away. She is just a child..." He pulled her head closer, his large palm cupping her jaw under her ear, and she exhaled loudly. "You are making me soft, I need to be angry… " He was silent, shocked by her words. "We are quite a pair, aren't we?" She chuckled, but the sound came out dead.

"How much time does your cousin have?"

"Three moons. She is home with her mother right now. How do they always know?.." She asked seemingly not addressing him.

"Who knows what?"

"The imps. They always know which children will grow up exceptional. I'm sure it's the same with your younger nephew. They somehow manage to pluck the best. Carys is a wonder, she is smart, talented, she is full of light! She has an amazing intuition when it comes to healing physical and emotional pain. People love her, and she is just… pure sunlight. The village was dying, there was a plague, and he came. He needed a payment, a child promised to him for later, we all were small then, just girls… I was eight, but I already understood what was going on. I was hoping he'd take me. But again who would want a skinny, ugly ginger… And…" Her voice broke, but then he saw her clench a fist. Her body grew tense, and he could almost feel her mind work, evaluating and making decisions. And then she exhaled sharply, straightened up and looked in his eyes. "My other cousin, Nerys, we will wait for her at Grandma's. Your imp will not withstand two hunters, and we will take him down and get your nephew out."

"You can't, Wren. He didn't break a contract, he has no crime on him. He is, so to say, not a monster," his tone was bitter, but then he grabbed her head, his hands on the sides of her face, his voice hardly controlled from the fierce love and amusement he felt, "Where have you been all these years, Wren of Leary? And how did I survive without you?" She pushed his hands away, twitching her nose in irritation, and he guffawed. His emotions were understandably in havoc today. She was ready to fight for him, he looked at her in admiration.

"Darius, we can do it. I'm sure we can find a loophole, three blades added into the equation will help." He was still chuckling, admiring her fiery stare and flaming locks.

"Three?"

"Nerys carries two. She is deadly. She once took down two swamp trolls on her own. She was twelve at the time." He whistled in wonder, but then remembered that she was planning to rush in the middle of his fight.

"Wren..."

"Don't argue with me, we are going." He decided that kissing her was the easiest way to stop her. She fought a bit, but it was an obvious pretense. Otherwise, she wouldn't be grinding her pelvis into his, her quick fingers in his mane again. He started pushing her on the ground, when she pressed her palms in his chest and gave him a strict stare, "Promise me we are all going." He wished there were a way to lie to one's mate. "Darius..." Her tone was menacing.

"Yes, Wren." He knew when he was beaten. "We are all going. And after that my nephews and I will help your cousin. Deal?"

"Deal," she conceded, and then in a trained movement she twisted out of his arms, her slender legs went around his waist, and her intentions became quite obvious. He smirked. Luckily, they coincided with his.

He slid from the tree on the ground, on his back, making sure she didn't bump her knees, and she settled on him more comfortably. His palms lay on her buttocks, just as he was craving this whole time, and she chuckled. She pressed her hands into his chest and lowered her lips on his.

"I want to see you all, Wren," he murmured, asking, not demanding, and she jerked off her tunic. His large palms covered her small, pale breasts, and she arched into his touch. "You are so familiar..." For the life of him he didn't know where it came from, but she was. She smiled blissfully and run her fingers over his face, the tips of her fingers grazing the bridge of his nose, her thumb ran on his bottom lip, and she made a soft purring noise. "When did you guess?" He didn't need to explain.

"I didn't, not till the last moment..." She leaned in and gently bit into his beard covered jaw, one of her hands on the ground near his head, the second one opening his trousers. "You started shaking, and I realized I was your mate." She sounded endlessly pleased to say it out loud.

"Then why?..." Her fingers slid down, brushed his hipbone and then wrapped around the base of his member. He took a large, open mouthed gulp of air, and she smirked.

"Are you suddenly finding my morale reproachable, wolf?" She twisted her wrist, her palm and thumb caressing just the right way. "You didn't seem to mind my loose ways before..." He opened the eyes he wasn't aware had been closed, he even forgot where his hands were, she was creating some sort of magic with her deft cool palm. His thumbs stroked her peaks, and then he moved his hands lower, grazing her ribs and making her giggle. He pulled the strings on her trousers, she slightly got up, pulling them off, and then she sank on him, her back arching, a raspy moan on her lips.

"Oh, I will pay for this tomorrow..." She murmured, but he didn't hear. Her hips started moving, and everything disappeared for him, except the tight hot walls of her quim, her soft gasps, and the feeling of absolute balance in the world around him. His hands flew to her buttocks again, cupping them, helping her to move, and he dropped his head back. It felt magnificent to give up control for once, let someone else set the rhythm, give in and give up. His hips had another idea though, his pelvis would buck up to meet her, and suddenly she stopped. His eyes flew open, and he stared at her.

"Down, boy," she smirked, and he snarled at her. "I won't tell anybody you are not the Big Bad Wolf when it's just the two of us." She purred, the corners of her lips twitching. He guffawed again and released her hips. He places his hands on the ground, near his head, and she leaned down to his lips. "That's much better..." She had strong legs, her movement were forceful and rhythmical, and he closed his eyes. There was a logic in the choice of a mate after all, and he pressed the back of his head into the fallen leaves. She would rise over him, and then her hips would plummet down, with an interesting twist, and soon enough the pleasure built up in him. At the same time she started moving faster, her previously impeccable rhythm stuttered, and then she climaxed, bending backwards. The quivering of her inner walls pushed him over the edge, and he groaned. She fell on him, her palms slid from his chest, along his arms, he shifted his arms, and their fingers intertwined. In a strange accordance they moved several more times, each one of them instinctively trying to prolong the pleasure of the other. After the last quakes of their release subsided, she nuzzled his neck.

"For once I'm not going to be cold at night in the woods..." Her voice was slightly sleepy, and he laughed softly. He had to be awake, keeping watch for his nephews, but he liked the idea of her sleeping near him. They got up, fixing their clothes, wrapping in the cloaks, and he started tending to the fire.

She was sitting pressed into his side, and he asked softly, "Are you hungry? There is still venison..." She didn't answer, and he saw she was sleeping. The long lashes lay under her eyes, and he tenderly looked at the freckled nose. In her sleep she looked younger, small hands fisted in an almost childish gesture, and he leaned back on the trunk of the nearest tree, arranging her in his arms. She sniffled in her sleep and buried her nose deeper into his cloak. He sat and listened to the woods and the even beating heart of his beloved.


	4. Chapter 4: Carys and Phillippe

**A/N: Here enters Carys, who I'm completely obsessed with. What a lovely addition to the fandom by Wynni.**

****New note**: This story is still being continued but can be found at kkolmakov's profile so that we comply with 's regulations about multiple postings of content. I'll still be updating Nerys' part. The liink to the story is in Chapter 7 and on my profile page. **

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><p><em>Written by Wynni<em>

CARYS/PHILIPPE

Carys wondered why it was that the nuttiest plans always seem sanest when first thought. She hurried through the darkening woods, praying to catch up to Wren before it got too dark. She had some woodcraft, but not enough she wanted to try her luck in the dark by herself. She knew she was probably praying in vain. Wren was quite likely already tucked up at Gram's sipping that infamous hot chocolate and eating those heavenly scones. People had been known to travel over the mountains for Gramma's scones, not just her medicines; though learning those was the reason Carys was trying to push on when she should have just waited for her sister. No, Carys didn't want to wait on her sister. She had to go now, and surely Wren was just a little ahead of her. Hah! Wren had more woodcraft in her wee finger than Carys had in her entire body. What had she been thinking?

When she heard the first wolf howl, Carys lost all semblance of composure. Her wild shriek probably woke every roosting bird in a half mile round. She was only a little better composed when the answering howl sounded. Her knees turned to jelly when she realized how close the second was, and it had to have heard her. Scratch that, it did hear her, and it was heading this way!

Wren had promised her there weren't wolves or wolfkin in these woods. That there hadn't been for twelve years or so, but there the howls and shaking undergrowth called her a barefaced liar. How she wished she'd stayed home and waited, now. What were her belt knives against wolves or wolf kin?

She heard them first. They didn't sound anxious or hungry. They were quietly chuffing and yipping to each other in an almost conversational tone. She felt her heart plummet. That definitely sounded more like wolfkin behavior than wolf. The two wolves finally broke cover, and she could see them in the bright moonlight. One was a blonde wolf with brilliant blue eyes. The other looked dark as soot and had brown eyes. Both of them studied her with more than animal intelligence even to cocking their heads as if asking "What are you doing out here by yourself?" Carys hugged her green cape closer to her for comfort. Now what?

Yep, there were only two of them, which meant wolf kin. It didn't necessarily spell her sudden doom. The fact they were looking at her curiously meant she stood a fair chance of surviving this encounter. "You are wolfkin, aren't you?"

The blonde one bowed to her as if nodding, whilst the dark one made that chuffing sound. It sounded like he was laughing at her. The cheek! She tried again.

"I don't want trouble. I'm just a healer in training, trying to get to the Blind Herbwoman who lives the other side of these woods. Will you let me pass?" Now even the dark one considered her, then purposefully turned to the blonde one as if looking for guidance. The blonde one stood up from where he'd been sitting on his haunches, walked over to one side of Carys, and took the corner of her cape in his mouth. The dark one mirrored his example on her other side. Both wolves came up to her waist at their shoulders. Carys wasn't all that tall, but was that normal for wolves? If they were large for wolves, how tall were they as humans?

She felt the hem of her cape catch behind her knees. She could either fall over, or go where the wolf kin wanted. They traveled that way only for a little while. She noticed that, even though they were watching her, they also paid close attention to their surroundings.

The ears and eyes of both were constantly surveying the shadows for possible trouble. It was almost like the two were guarding her from danger. She began to wonder if she'd managed to stumble upon her very own guardian wolfkin. The thought made her giggle, earning her a sidelong look from the dark one, making her giggle even harder. Considering the cheek that one showed earlier, she dared a joke. "Lead on, oh brave guardian wolf knight; just don't trip me, hey?" She heard chuffing from her other side. Apparently, Blonde thought it was funny.

It wasn't long after that they both stopped suddenly. Ears on both heads started swiveling, and an odd whining came from the blonde, while the dark one started that wolfish version of laughter.

"Care to share the joke? What's happened? Why stop here?" Then she heard her cousin yelling. Carys didn't think, she just started running, because if something could make Wren yell, and then before she could finish that thought, she was head over heels tumbling in the leaf litter. She came up to a pair of laughing wolf eyes.

"What was that for?" Again, both heads cocked, and the Blonde whined. This time, Carys really listened, and she felt her own cheeks heat up. That was most definitely not the cry of a woman in trouble.

"Oh? OH! Well, since where ever we were headed is ….busy, now what?" Both of them were over by a large spreading oak. The base of it looked curved about right to provide some support for resting. As soon as she was settled against the tree, both wolves nosed their heads under her arms and onto her lap. She chuckled at that, but it did keep her warm against the chill better than her cape. Both of them threw off amazing body heat. She was almost too warm to sleep.

She laughed again, causing both wolves to look at her. "I have to be the oddest sight ever. Here I am, a half trained healer, and I have two wolfkin sleeping on my lap. No one will ever believe it." She fell asleep still chuckling.

Philippe slowly opened his eyes. Nope, it wasn't a wolf dream. They really had found a young healer out in the woods by herself. She was just as interesting to human eyes as she was to his wolf eyes. Long curling hair peeping out of her hood the color of wild honey, long dark lashes, a high bridged nose, and a generous mouth slightly smiling while she dreamed. Philippe wondered if the curls were as soft as they seemed. They were. Unfortunately, his inspection of her curls seemed to have been enough to waken her. The mouth twitched and the stubborn chin firmed.

Philippe was not one to let things happen; he preferred to be proactive. "Good morning, I hope you slept well?" Brook brown eyes flew open. Her expressions were quite comical as sleep cleared and memory returned.

"The blonde wolf?"

"Philippe, fair healer, at your service." Oh saints preserve her, but he was a looker. Bright blonde hair, lively blue eyes, a laughing mouth that promised all kinds of delightful kisses, and a strong chin and nose completed a package guaranteed to cause her troubled dreams. Even the beard and braided mustache added to his charm. Carys felt her heart flip just looking at him. Her voice only shook a little when she asked her next question.

"And this is the dark one, still asleep on my lap?"

"I'm Killiare, also at your service" Yep, he was a cheeky fellow, and as open and friendly as he seemed- the classic good looks didn't hurt none, she was sure the boy could probably get away with murder. Carys knew trouble when she was looking at it. Right now, she had double naked trouble literally in her lap.

"Alright boys, now what?"

"Now, they tell me what they're doing with my cousin pinned to a tree between them?" Oh Wren, your timing always was twenty kinds of impeccable.

"Well, we were bringing this poor lost lamb to camp, but um, Uncle seemed preoccupied at the time." Leave it to Killiare to stop a wrathful Wren in her tracks, and goodness, was even the big fellow just behind her blushing? He must be Philippe and Killiare's uncle. He was as dark as Killiare, but shared the same strong features and bright blue eyes with Philippe. No bloody wonder they were "preoccupied" last night.

"Here boys, make yourselves presentable." Linen trousers were thrown to the two, and they quickly shimmied into them. Tunics followed, a blue one for Philippe and a red one for Killiare. Carys felt her lips twitch in amusement, Wolf White and Wolf Red indeed.

"Now that the distractions are covered." Wren barely kept her lips from twitching when both boys laughed outright. "Perhaps you'd tell me what in hell made you come out here alone, instead of waiting on Nerys?"

"I had to…" Carys huffed loudly at the look Wren gave her. "Wren! It was like being at my own funeral there! The ones not giving me sympathetic looks were treating me as if I were about to consign myself to the well! Better to start the rest of my training early than endure a day more of that!"

"And you thought walking alone through the forests was a good alternative to a slight emotional discomfort in the safe village?" Wren's sarcastic tone was known to freeze hot coffee in pots. It rather warmed her heart to see Philippe start to step between them. What a protective fellow, but no. Wren was her cousin, and she'd been dealing with her bossy, but often right, britches her whole life.

"Wren, I love you dearly and will even admit chasing after you wasn't as smart as it first seemed, but I'll be damned if I'll let you assume what sitting around with a whole village pitying you or worse, feeling guilty over you, felt like." Carys gritted her teeth and her usually sweet soprano fairly growled. Wren had always been the bigger sibling sort, and still felt it necessary to boss her about, never mind Carys had bandaged more bruises and scrapes from both her and Nerys' brilliant plans than either of them would ever admit. Carys sometimes wondered if Wren had picked up healing just to keep from having to admit when another of her escapades failed.

Wren rubbed her face in aggravation, ignoring her growl. "Carys, I cannot walk you to Grandma right now. It just so turned out I have matters to attend at the moment," her face was cold and serious, but something flashed in her slanted green eyes.

The older wolfkin slightly shifted, and she threw him a look from the corner of her eyes. It felt as if a strange thread linked the two of them, a strange buzzing energy running between them. She looked at him more openly, and he nodded and pointed at the blonde boy with his eyes. "Philippe will walk you to the swamps. Killiare will go with us."

Somehow it never entered anyone's mind to argue with her. She was tiny and looked very young, but could bend the biggest, scariests blokes to her will with a slightly lifted brow. "Please, tell me you at least remember the path to Grandma's."

"Yes, Wren, I remember the path. Where do you think these two fine fellows found me?" Aggrieved patience dripped from every word, Carys was still comfortably settled against the tree. She lifted a hand to Philippe, who helped her up with all the care of a fine gentleman, causing both Killiare and the older one to raise an eyebrow at him.

Wren slightly turned her head to the woods and smiled coyly. "Eavesdropping is a sin, sister."

"So is lechery," answered a calm melodic tone, and Carys thought that if Killiare were still a wolf, his ears would perk up and his thick black tail would wag. The lopsided grin he sported, though, was definitely pure wolf. Now it was Killiare's turn to be on the receiving end of speculative looks from Philippe and their uncle, not that Killiare's riveted eyes even noticed.

However, Carys, who wound up mending emotions almost as often as flesh and bone, did. She wondered what exactly was happening here. How likely was it that Wren would find a wolfkin she was that comfortable with the very night Carys would make a bid to escape the very village she'd practically sacrificed her life to protect? What odds she'd find one of the nephews that distracting, or the other be that taken with her sister? She felt Fate tugging on their strings, and she didn't like it one bit. One too many times she'd been on the wrong end of that string. It made her want to stubbornly dig in her heels and tell Fate where it could go and what it could take with it.

"Nerys, I must speak with you." Wren pulled Nerys aside. Now Carys' curiosity was piqued. What on earth could have changed just since yesterday? What did that old wolfkin talk to her about before, after, whenever. Carys could feel her cheeks heating. Seriously, Fate, take a flying leap. Wren was not the sort to simply fall in with anyone, much less a race she blamed for taking her father too early. She'd heard for herself just how thoroughly Wren had fallen in with the older wolfkin.

She watched the various expressions play themselves out on Nerys' face: skepticism, growing horror, and finally grim acceptance. Reading Nerys was a perk only family got. Her expressions were subtle; most folk considered her calm, collected, and hard to read. Whatever was happening had to be deathly serious for even as much as Carys' got off her. Nerys' gave a curt nod to Wren, then strode over to where Carys still stood with both Philippe and Killiare, who still seemed mesmerized by Nerys. "Wren is going to need help. Specifically, mine and Killiare's. I've been assured." Her eyes cut to and narrowed in on their uncle. "That Philippe is more than capable of getting you safely to Grandma's." Her tone left no doubt there'd be hell to pay if he didn't.

"They kept me safe and out of trouble last night; I trust them. I'll be fine. Can you promise me the same?" Carys idly brushed the leaf litter off her leggings and cape, carefully hiding her own nerves. Her tone was much calmer than she really felt. Left alone,with Philippe? She just knew Fate was rolling in laughter, because it wasn't him she was worried about misbehaving at this point, but herself. And why, heavens above, was she even thinking about that when her sister and cousin might be traipsing off to unknown dangers that horrify even her devil may care kin?

"We shall have to see, won't we?" Her sister was never one to try to feed her a lie of any stripe, even if a comforting white lie would have been preferable. Nerys had already turned to start checking her pack and other equipment. Tabulating what she had, and what she might need for this further journey she hadn't been planning.

Carys' nerves demanded she do something, so she did the next best thing she could do. She thumped Killiare in the shoulder to get his attention. He shifted his eyes to her momentarily, then went back to watching Nerys' shapely bent over backside as she rummaged her packs. "Promise me you'll watch out for her?"

"With my life, if need be." Carys did a double take. What on earth? It didn't stun just her. Philippe was now gazing at his brother with real concern. Carys felt Killiare's forehead, just to make sure he wasn't about to start on a journey with an illness. She wondered if Nerys had heard him. Yep. Nerys was now thoughtfully gazing at a distant tree branch just starting to bud. Her cheeks were faintly flushed.

Carys did not know what to think. It was one thing for Fate to tinker and toy with her. Healers expect some degree of it, given the gifts they're given, but to toy with her family or these nice wolfkin she'd met? Intolerable. What are you up to, Fate, and heavens help you if you harm any of them. Though how, exactly she could make Fate pay, she didn't know, but she was sure she could come up with something. She didn't grow up with daredevils for nothing.

Despite her best efforts, time slipped away from her. Eventually, everyone was ready to break camp and go their way: her and Philippe to her Gram's, and the rest on whatever the secretive quest was. It troubled Carys that this might be the last, and as she often did, she started singing to herself to quiet her mind. Nerys, hearing the old familiar round, joined her four bars in. She did NOT expect the wolfkin. They filled in the lower registers: Killiare a fine tenor, Philippe and Thorin baritones. Yet it seemed fitting. The song joining them just as Fate seemed to be, their voices mingling to create a lovely thing, even as they were preparing to part company.

"Roads, lead me home, Roads, lead me home." As the final bars finished all voices together, Carys looked up to see Nerys' eyes just as suspiciously shiny as hers. Carys could stand it no longer. "Take as much care as you can, I love you." Nerys only nodded, not trusting her voice. Carys moved on to Wren, pulling her into a hug. "I love you. Stay safe, please?"

Wren's own "I love you, too. Safe travels." was softly spoken, meant only for her ears. Carys picked up her pack and took Philippe's offered arm as they started their journey together. She didn't dare look back.


	5. Chapter 5: Carys and Phillippe

**A/N: I've always wanted to be involved in a collaboration, long before I even started writing, and it's chapters like these that remind me why.**

**New note**: This story is still being continued but can be found at kkolmakov's profile so that we comply with 's regulations about multiple postings of content. I'll still be updating Nerys' part. The liink to the story is in Chapter 7 and on my profile page.

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><p><em>Written by <em>_Wynni_

CARYS/PHILIPPE

The camp was now a half day behind them, and Carys was still quiet as a mouse. Philippe kept careful watch, idly fingering one of the long knives that rode comfortably at his side. She'd often catch him humming, quirking a smile despite herself. Some of them were easy to recognize, others puzzled her, having never heard anything like them. Curiosity finally got the better of her.

"That tune, what is it?" Philippe cocked his head at her, as if trying to remember what it was he'd been humming. Carys hummed it back at him, watching his eyes light up.

"Just an old cradle song. One our mum would sing to help us sleep. It's a longtime favorite." He smiled down at her. From the crinkles at the corner of his eyes to the winking dimples just clear of his beard, she liked the way his whole face lit up. It was one reason she felt so comfortable in his presence, despite his height. He wasn't as tall as his uncle. Carys thought few men or wolfkin could be, but he was plenty tall to her. Carys was five foot if she were an inch, and she could just barely stare him straight in the chest.

"It's pretty. Would you share the words?"

"Oh now, that, well, for a grown man to sing those, 'tis a bit embarrassing now."

"I'll share one of mine, if you share yours."

"I somehow don't think it'd be as embarrassing for a pretty lass to sing a cradle song as a grown man." The lop sided mischievous grin was playing havoc with Carys' equilibrium. In fact, she was so busy watching his grin, she stumbled over a thick branch. Quick arms caught her up before she could utterly disgrace herself.

"You should really watch where you point that thing, It's dangerous."

"Whatever for, when it puts you right where I want you?" Philippe's low rumbly words had Carys' cheeks approaching combustion levels, and she had to put some space between herself and the impossible wolfkin….mercy did he smell good: forest loam, fresh fern, and a personal musk that was causing serious consternation in nether regions best left unmentioned. Her heart was fair beating out of her chest by this point. She pushed away so fast she wound up back against a tree, trying to catch her breath.

"That's enough of that, thank you! " Carys was trying for a no nonsense tone, but was fairly certain the treble gave it away. Philippe was studying her, almost as if he couldn't quite believe something, and shook his head in a very wolfish manner, as if trying to clear it.

Carys was back at his side almost instantly, checking his temperature and pulse. He felt even warmer than usual, and his heartbeat raced madly against her palm. "What is it? What's wrong?"

He gave her a wistful grin. "Lack of sleep. This full moon's our First Change. " Carys winced in sympathy. Growing up in a family of Hunters meant she knew a lot about wolfkin. "Know thy enemy" was a motto her family lived and died by.

"Well, we could rest during the day, and you can escort me as you and your brother did last night? Would that help matters?"

"And who would stand watch during the day? Once I nod off, not much would wake me."

"I'm a healer, I'd find a way." Carys' studied the stubborn tilt of her wolfkin's head, and huffed at him. "There's a shallow cave not half a league that way our family's often used for camping. Oft used to the point we leave an equipment cache there for just in case. Would that suffice? We can even build up a fire at the entrance to ward off most animals." It was then Carys' turn to catch Philippe. He was obviously worse off than he'd be letting on, the stinker. "I'll take that as a yes, then."

Carys studied the zonked out Philippe. He really was a deep sleeper, or just that drained from the changes. She mentally calculated how many more he'd be through. Tonight and one other. It was lucky for them then, she'd started her journey as early as she had. Giving Philippe time would not put her late on her apprenticeship to Gram. Carys shook her head. She was accomplishing nothing watching Philippe sleep except giving herself a case of nerves. She decided to inspect the cache. Digging it out, she found her old bow and quiver set. She smiled at it.

It had been a few years since she'd needed it. She put it up when she started her herbal studies. Hunting plants required a very different technique than hunting rabbits or squirrels. She idly wondered if she still had her aim. She strung the bow, and checked the arrows. The fletchings were still good, the shafts unwarped. The bow and string seemed in excellent condition, too. She wondered who'd packed it back so carefully for her. It was almost as if someone knew she'd be needing it. She rolled her eyes, because it almost seemed she could hear Fate snickering over her shoulder.

She took the bow and quiver to the cave's mouth. She thought the old stump about a hundred paces away would do, and took careful aim. The first arrow landed in the dirt just before it. The second whizzed off into the underbrush just over it. The third and forth arrows found center. She whooped loudly in delight, and quickly turned to see if she disturbed Philippe. No, he was still asleep. She quietly celebrated with a little victory dance, and started making packs up again for the evening's travel, including her recovered bow and arrows and a few other things from the cache.

Everything was finally set to her standards: fire to ward off animals, a tripwire that would warn if anything passed the fire, and packs ready for evening travel. Carys felt a yawn crack her jaws. Only thing left was for her to get some sleep. It wouldn't do for her to be too tired to travel in the evening, that would defeat the whole purpose. She took a bedroll from the cache, shook it out, laid down next to Philippe's comatose form, and slept.

Philippe slowly came back to himself. He didn't recall ever sleeping that soundly before. Uncle hadn't been kidding when he'd warned them about the exhaustion. He scanned his surroundings. This must have been the cave Carys had mentioned. She wasn't sleeping far from him. In fact, she was rather nicely cuddled up next to him. Her constant contact with something was part of what had awakened him. He shifted a little to ease the distress. Her curls were everywhere, like soft clinging, curling vines. Again, he couldn't resist playing with them. This time, she simply murmured, smiled, and snuggled closer. Feelings threatened to swamp him, and he had to close his eyes a moment to bring them back in line.

He refused to give in to anything, including his own nature. He would decide his fate, naught else. Except, he realized that there was one thing he couldn't control: he'd found his Half. It was humorous watching his Uncle find his mate, worrisome when it seemed Recognition had struck his brother, but himself? It scared him. It scared him that some other person could hold that much power over him, and he was helpless against it. She could break him to pieces or make him ecstatic.

So much power in those deft healer's hands. He took one up, smiling at it. They were green stained, and the nails cut short for practicality. Her hands were almost square: short fingered, and with a wide palm comparatively. He knew a healer's work wasn't easy, yet they were still soft and smooth. He wondered at that. He caressed the center of her palm with his thumb.

That's how Carys woke: looking up into thoughtful blue eyes, a serious look on the usually impish face, and her palm being caressed to a fair thee well. "Um? What's wrong?"

"Do you know, you've left me a mystery. Why were the villagers treating you so strangely? Going to study herbalism shouldn't warrant such a reaction." Sidestepping things he didn't want to talk about had become an artform. It really was the only way to deal with a younger sibling sometimes.

"I wondered when I'd have to have this discussion." All her good feelings from her fast fading dream were long gone. She did seem to remember it involved laughing blue eyes and soft sweet kisses. "It's not my apprenticeship to Gram, but the reason for it: I was the Crooked Dwarf's price for banishing the village plague that struck oh, several years ago now. I was just a wee girl then, and nobody could think how else to stop it. It even had Gram stumped. So, for the price of only seven years of my life, he'd save the entire village from death. What a steal, right?" She shuddered and huddled into herself, hugging her knees close.

One wolfish growl later and she was pulled tightly against a massive, overly warm chest. "I've not long before the change, but we will finish this talk later. For now, just remember, you won't be facing that Crooked Dwarf of yours alone. Not if I can help it. Please?" He had shifted her so he could turn her face to meet his earnest blue eyes. He was already breaking out in a sweat, his time fast approaching.

"Philippe, is everything alright? You don't look well." A touch softer than butterfly kisses flitted across his brow and cupped his cheek, keeping eye contact between them now that the conversation had turned. She seemingly wasn't the only one with subjects she wanted to avoid.

"I don't like the change. It isn't easy on me." He rubbed against her hand. Her cool skin felt heavenly right now.

"What can I do? I want to help."

"A kiss for luck?" Between Recognition clawing at him and the coming change, he couldn't stop himself from asking at least that much.

"That would help with the change, would it?" He winced at her dry, teasing tone. He thought to play it off, working up a lopsided grin for her despite his thumping heart and twitching muscles.

"Well, it'd make me feel better." He almost believed his light cajolery himself.

Philippe had been sending mixed signals since she met him. There was a chance that all the oddities were simply First Change symptoms, she admitted to herself. A lot of the outward symptoms of First Change and Recognition were nigh indistinguishable. There was a chance it might be Recognition, given that both his uncle and his brother were smitten.

It seemed a small, unlikely chance to Carys' mind; she'd never been given a second glance before. She wasn't dashing, petite, and fiery like Wren. She wasn't collected, calm, and ladylike like Nerys. She was round little Carys, everyone's friend and confidant. She was just good ol' Carys, as common and comfortable as granny's quilt.

"Mm hmm, it would, would it?" She could hear Fate laughing over her shoulder again, but by now, she didn't care. She'd been breathing the same air from his lungs for the past half minute, already half drunk from the smell and feel of him. She closed her eyes and dove in.

Philippe was drowning in heaven and didn't care. The minute she opened her mouth for him his tongue was dancing with hers. She tasted glorious: woodsmoke, honeyed journeycake, and he'd swear on his soul she tasted of sunshine too. He could have happily spent the rest of his life right there, but his change was on him, and he broke free with a frustrated growl.

"Carys," Her name almost sounded like a prayer on his lips. "The change, now." Philippe tottered outside. She heard a bellow of sheer agony that slowly mutated into a howl.


	6. Chapter 6: Nerys and Killiare

**A/N: ****Well folks, here's my installment. As usual, I'm worried and obsessed with detail :D I really enjoy writing this though. Just more of my lovely darlings here. I loved writing about Wren and Nerys though. I have to say, having a character who is family of those two is a good time. The dynamics are quite fresh.**

****New note****: This story is still being continued but can be found at kkolmakov's profile so that we comply with 's regulations about multiple postings of content. I'll still be updating Nerys' part. The liink to the story is in Chapter 7 and on my profile page.

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><p><em>Written by RagdollPrincess<em>

NERYS/KILLIARE

Nerys sat on the log by the fire, finishing her meal. She felt tense and anxious and was trying to ignore it. She stared blankly into the fire as Wren and Darius talked quietly, their words muffled. Nerys knew they were talking about the Crooked Dwarf and what was to be done for Killiare and Carys, who were both to be tied to him for seven years.

They were being quiet so that Killiare did not hear them, his being, in her opinion, oddly ignorant and uninterested in the reason he'd been taken on this journey by his uncle and brother. She wondered why he thought they were here in the forest, or why he didn't seem surprised that these women had suddenly joined in with his family on their journey. He seemed a bit passive, almost dimwitted, going along with whatever his uncle and brother decided without question, but she would have to talk to him in order to find out his thoughts on the situation, and she simply could not bring herself to do that.

Nerys did not feel well. She felt short of breath and heavy behind her eyes, the palms of her hands tense, making her clench them repeatedly. She suspected what her reaction to Killiare meant, but she was unsure, not seeing any sign of recognition of her as his half in him. She wasn't sure what she would do if she did.

Unlike her flame haired cousin, Nerys tended to be cautious, lacking in flamboyance. Wren had a certain flair to her, a confident impulsivity that never led her astray, whereas Nerys preferred to remain detached and calm. Carys called her avoidant, which would annoy Nerys if it had come from Wren, but from Carys seemed only to be a playful observation. Nerys was anything but calm now, and she kept her distance to gather her thoughts.

When she'd come upon her cousin and sister in the clearing with three men who were clearly Wolfkin, she'd had the urge to turn and walk back to the village. She'd been tracking her sister, who she hadn't been aware had set out on her own from the village for thee grandmother's until Carys had already had a good head start.

Nerys had lingered in the trees, never one to rush into things, and had immediately seen the dark haired young man. She's had to take a moment to calm herself, panicking at first at her reaction to him. She felt irresistibly drawn to him, as though she'd come here for the sole purpose of meeting him.

She'd taken deep breaths to calm herself, not liking being distracted by any emotional reaction, and had made sense of the situation. She's been surprised when she'd realized Wren had bedded the older man because Wren typically didn't keep her conquests around long enough for Nerys or Carys to meet them. Wren was like her namesake to her lovers, here one moment gone the next, having taken flight on the wind in the blink of an eye.

Nerys had turned her attention to her sister and was further alarmed by what she saw there. Her beautiful adorably insightful and kind younger sister seemed to have bewitched the third man in the clearing. Nerys wasn't sure how she knew. She just sensed a possessiveness to him, something in his stance that signaled that he recognized Carys as his half.

Nerys felt alarm begin to wail in her ears. This was no ordinary meeting of travelers, and Nerys was terrified that for some reason it was not chance that she would come upon her sister in the company of her cousin, who was supposed to be out hunting, in the company of these men. Fate had a plan afoot. And that was when Wren had called her out of the trees.

Nerys glanced at Killiare now by the fire. She'd avoided him since that time, not sure what to say or do. She wasn't one to speak to others without necessity, and she hadn't known how to respond to his advances towards her.

He had such dynamic features. When he was laughing, his black eyes crinkled and narrowed as he grinned. But he just as often appeared fierce, dark, and dangerous. Now he appeared, calm, serious, and guarded, lost deeply in thought. He held his bow in his hand, absently plucking the string, just as she held a knife in hers, flipping it lazily from end to end.

Killiare glanced towards the western sky where the setting sun was about to descend completely. He rose to his feet and glanced at his uncle who nodded before Killiare strode into the wood without a word, the trees closing behind his back and obscuring him from vision as Nerys' eyes followed him. This would be his fourth and final night shifting. The fourth shift was supposed to be the most animalistic, the most consuming.

Darius followed and retrieved Killiare's clothing from the wood before entwining himself again with Wren. Nerys ignored them, and it wasn't long before they drifted off into the trees themselves. They'd remained by the fire for his shift the previous night but said they were unconcerned about this evening, despite Nerys' misgivings.

She sat staring into the fire, listening to the sounds around her. Wren and Darius must have gone a long distance. Wren's loud cries sounded far away.

She knew Killiare was hunting. She could hear him not far off from time to time, and she was scared and cautious. He was a newly turned Wolfkin and she doubted how possible it was for him to control his urge to kill humans. He seemed to like being Wolfkin quite a bit, seeming almost excited at the prospect of shifting this evening. She could be in grave danger if he gave into his impulses. Considering how attached she has become to him, she wasn't sure how she'd react if she had to defend herself.

She started when she looked up and saw he was suddenly standing in the clearing. She didn't even hear him approach. He was covered in blood from whatever he had killed and feasted on.

He stalked towards her slowly while her heart hammered in alarm. He stood before her and gazed into her eyes. He was huge, his eyes nearly level with hers. She was tall compared to her sister and cousin, and yet he physically dominated her. He could crush her with his powerful jaws, and she would never survive if he turned his claws on her. She held her breath as he stood before her, seeming to consider her carefully.

Then suddenly he turned away and curled by the fire as he carefully bathed himself, cleaning all of the blood from his fur. She exhaled a sigh before slowly settling on the log again, watching him bathe out of the corner of her eye. It was lovely to watch him, and her stomach fluttered as he carefully cleaned his paws before rubbing his wet paws over his face, closing his eyes each time his paw swept over the short fur there.

Once he was clean, he bounded up, suddenly energetic and almost gleeful. He glanced at her and pranced away playfully. At first she was surprised and confused but then she couldn't help laughing at how silly this lethal creature looked, tumbling like a puppy. This behaviour continued for several minutes, and at times he would lope joyously around the clearing. At one point he even did a quick turn trying to chase his tail, then bounded towards her and bent low on his front paws, his rear in the air as he panted happily. She grinned at him, waiting to see what he'd do next.

He calmed suddenly and came to stand before her as he rose up on his hind legs, resting his paws on her shoulders and draping himself over her in a hug as he nuzzled her hair and ear. She stiffened at this action, her heart hammering in fear but also at the nearness of him. She wasn't sure how to react and wondered if she was in danger, thinking that she had a blade stashed in her trousers that would surely penetrate his heart if needed. Then some a memory surfaced from her training with Wren, and she realized he was engaging in Wolfkin courting behaviour.

Her heart froze. She finally had the answer to her question about if he recognized his mate in her, but she wasn't sure what to do. She wasn't even sure what she wanted to do, although she knew what she desired. It didn't matter though because he pushed down on his paws, and she understood that she was expected to sit.

He lowered himself before her, settling on his belly, and brought his nose to her fingers as he began to clean her, licking any remnants from supper away. She giggled and blushed, but did not pull away. After a moment she began to gently stroke his muzzle, delicately playing with the short black whiskers there while she watched this beautiful creature groom her carefully as though she belonged to him. She laughed as he then brought his muzzle to her face, cleaning it thoroughly, before continuing with her hair. She sighed and resigned herself to the feeling, wanting only to be close to him, and glad they did not need to speak as he was in wolf form.

She stifled a yawn and he moved, curling his gigantic body around hers. She understood what she was to do as she leant into his broad side, feeling his hard ribs beneath his stiff fur. She threaded her hands into his fur, the outer hairs stiff, covering a downy under layer that was still thick for the cold spring. He draped a paw over her possessively, and she felt cradled by the heavy weight, warm and comfortable. It was in this position that she fell asleep, feeling his steady breath beneath his ribs.

When she woke in the morning, he was completely naked and they were tangled together. She glanced around alarmed at his bare state in the cold air. Finally, she removed her cloak and draped it over him, avoiding looking at his body. He lay sleeping while she watched him, and she began to shiver as she sat without her cloak, unwilling to be near him in his naked human form.

Wren and Darius were nowhere to be seen but she was sure they'd appear soon. She wasn't concerned about either of them as they themselves were the most dangerous things in the forest. She began to shiver, and biting her lip she finally lifted the edge of the cloak and slid beneath it, curling her back into his chest and wrapping her legs over his bent knees. His body was scorching hot like a furnace, and she wondered if it was part of being Wolfkin. She felt warmed immediately and began to doze again.

She woke sometime later feeling wonderfully warm like she was in a cocoon that she had no desire to leave. She felt a heavy weight over her ribs and realized there was an arm draped over her. She stiffened, not sure what to do.

She heard a throat clear and glanced up to see Wren and Darius standing not too far away. Lifting her head, her wide eyes met Wren's, who smirked at her and shook her head

"Dear cousin, you appear to have forgotten everything I taught you. We came upon you completely unawares."

Wren's voice appeared to wake Kili as he began to stir. Nerys felt something hard against her back and gasped, realizing what it must be. She scrambled out from under the cloak, her face burning, as his eyes fluttered open. He looked shocked for a moment before colouring similarly, drawing the cloak tightly around him as he sat up, before he saw Wren and Darius watching them in amusement.

Killiare stared at them for a moment before clearing his voice carefully.

"Good morning, uncle."

"Good morning, Killiare. Would you care for your clothing?"

Killiare coloured even more brilliantly, and Nerys quickly busied herself getting a fire started.

"If you would be so kind," he murmured.

Darius tossed Killiare's clothing to him in a heap, and Killiare struggled to don his trousers beneath the cloak. Having covered himself sufficiently, he stood, less concerned about his bare chest. Nerys felt his gaze on her and did her best not to look at him as she attempted to calm her trembling hands to start a fire. After several unsuccessful attempts she glanced at Wren.

"You could help, if you felt so inclined."

"I don't," smiled Wren as she sat on a nearby log, stretching her legs lazily before her, "but thank you for the offer. It's much more enjoyable watching you do it."

In irritation, Nerys stood suddenly, abandoning her task. She grabbed her bow and strode into the woods without a word, ignoring the sniggers behind her as she went, intending to find game to have for breakfast as not everyone had feasted the night before.

The next night Darius and Wren retreated into the woods long before sunset. They had no need to wait as Killiare was not going to shift that night. Killiare and Nerys found themselves sitting by the fire again in silence. Finally Killiare spoke.

"What training have you had with a blade?"

She looked at him in surprise and grinned. This was a topic they could discuss that did not lead to awkward discomfort or draw attention to the gnawing tension growing between them. She knew where things were going to eventually lead, but she had no idea how to bridge the gap between them. Discussion and romance was not her arena of choice.

"A great deal. It is my preferred weapon. You?"

"Some. I'm not as skilled as Fili. I prefer a bow. But it is a close second for me."

She smiled at him. They settled into silence again. The suddenly she looked up at him. "Do you want to spar?"

He grinned at her and jumped up as though he wanted nothing more.

They sparred for the better part of an hour, only stopping when it became too dark for them to see safely, although they spoke about their strategies for fighting in the darkness, their use of sound to track their prey. Killiare spoke of his ability to use his opponent's scent to his advantage, talking about how he could even smell fear, especially when he was about the win the fight. They were well matched, and although she was clearly a superior fighter with a blade, he was clearly well trained. They talked at length about techniques and injuries. As they walked back to the campfire laughing, and Killiare flung his arm comfortably around Nerys' shoulders. He told her a story about a time when he and Phillippe attacked Darius and Killiare somehow accidentally split his own lip.

They fell into comfortable silence as they stopped before the fire, the embers dying low. She turned to him to say she was going to gather wood to build up the fire and paused when she saw he was gazing at her. She gazed back at him, for the first time feeling no need to pull away. Suddenly rising on her toes, she pressed her lips to his, no longer feeling uncomfortable with her attraction to him.

She heard him sigh as she kissed him, and he returned the kiss carefully. Pulling away she gazed up at him as he grinned at her.

"Thank you," he said.

"What for?"

"I would never have gotten around to that." He smiled as she gazed at him and dipped his head to kiss her once more, chastely, his eyes fluttering shut at the contact.

He pulled away again, and she laughed although she wasn't sure why. He laughed with her.

"Well, how about that fire?" she asked.

He nodded and bent to stoke the embers while she jogged to the trees to gather kindling.

She didn't hesitate to curl into him as they settled by the fire for sleep. As she settled, she could hear Wren in the distance. It sounded like she and Darius had started on another round.

She felt as comfortable and warm as she had the night before when she was curled into him, both covered with her heavy grey cloak, his brown one below them protecting them from the cold. She was just drifting off to sleep when his voice drew her back to waking.

"I have something to discuss with you," he murmured.

She felt suddenly awake and turned under the cloak to face him. She immediately noticed how broad his shoulders were, that lying beside him like this he towered over her much narrower frame.

"What?" she asked, not missing the feeling of her belly and chest pressed against his as he draped his arm over her, pulling her to him snugly with her head lying on his arm stretched below her.

She noticed she fit into him perfectly, her head tucking nicely below his chin. He really was quite tall.

"Uncle and Phillippe think I don't know," he began, and then paused. Her breath hitched as she realized she already knew what he was going to say. "And I know that you already know, as well." He stared at her, and she didn't even bother to pretend his words weren't true.

"The Crooked Dwarf," she answered.

He nodded and gazed past her shoulder, lost in thought. "I was just a baby when it happened. I only found out because I overheard them talking one day. They must think me a halfwit for me to seem to be completely unawares my entire life of the agreement, or of their plan to get me out of it." He shrugged amiably. "But no matter, they mean well." He smiled at her for a moment before beginning again. "As you know, Darius and Phillippe want to offer themselves in place of me."

Nerys was indeed already aware of this plan. "Killiare," she finally said. "The Crooked Dwarf is the same imp who my sister will be bonded to for seven years. She's contracted to go to him in three months. It was an exchange made so that the imp would save our village from the plague."

Killiare nodded slowly. "I'd been wondering," he said. "I thought there had to be some sort of a reason why you would agree to join us. Even with your cousin's mating with my uncle, there was no reason why either of you had to come on this journey. But I won't let that happen."

"What do you mean you won't let that happen?"

"I'm going to somehow find a way to keep Darius from getting to the imp. I'll go instead. And I'm going to …" Killiare glanced away for a moment. "I'm going to make him change his mind. About both of us."

"And if he doesn't?" Nerys asked pointedly. She noticed Killiare was avoiding eye contact with her. She wondered if he was planning to kill the imp or just give into the contract.

"I had wondered about Carys, and I was thinking if the imp cannot be reasoned with that I'll offer myself for fourteen years instead, for both hers and my contracts," he said.

"Whoa," Nerys said. "Not so fast. You can't just offer yourself like that." She swallowed. "We need to talk about this, Killiare." She couldn't help noticing how happy he looked at her words. It was the first time she'd verbally acknowledged their connection, despite her kiss, despite their sleeping tangled together the way they were.

"What would you suggest?" he asked, his arm tightening around her waist.

She swallowed. "If the imp cannot be reasoned with, we kill him. If he cannot be killed..." she paused, "then I will take Carys' place." She glanced at him, his face unreadable. "Our families will be safe, and we ... will be together."

He didn't speak. For a moment he only stared at her, then dropped his head to kiss her softly again, rubbing his nose against hers in a gesture that reminded her of his nuzzling her face in wolf form the night before.

"Alright," he finally said. "So the plan is to first reason, then try to kill, and then to trade if worst comes to worst. ls that normally the order you do things in?"

She couldn't help laughing. "Usually it's a bit hard to trade if the killing has been done, but this is a powerful imp, and I'm not deluded that we are likely able to overpower him."

Killiare nodded. "But first we have to get Darius and Wren out of the way. Phillippe is gone now, luckily, but Darius is too stubborn, so I have to find a way to keep him … preoccupied." He grinned at Nerys, and her heart skipped a beat. Even in this moment, she couldn't help loving his playful mischievous nature.

She chewed her lip thoughtfully. Unlike Killiare, she was familiar with the forest and the path they were talking. "I think I have an idea," she said. "I believe we require a cellar, with a good strong door. And I know of just the place to find such a thing."


	7. AN: Story moving!

Hi everyone - Unfortunately removes stories if more than one copy is posted. So, if all three of us keep posting the story we'll end up with the stories and reviews removed, and there's the possibility our accounts will even be removed. Therefore, you can find the rest of this story here: www . fanfiction s / 10714480 / 1 / Claws-and-Cloaks. You know what to do - just remove the spaces. I'll also put the link on my profile. I'm going to keep updating Nerys' part but won't be including the chapters on my profile. Cheers! RP


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